《The Last Flower: A Battle For Hope》 Prolouge & Teaser Once, this world was a paradise. Flowers bloomed in colors beyond imagination, swaying gently with the wind. Crystal-clear rivers shimmered under a golden sky that never dimmed. The air carried a scent so soothing, it felt as if peace itself resided in every breath. In this land¡ªthe World of Flower¡ªfear was a foreign concept. Neither day nor night bore any threats. Creatures lived in perfect harmony, welcoming each dawn with laughter and joy. Light embraced them, a warmth that felt eternal. But eternity was an illusion. Without warning, darkness descended. It came in the form of a man with piercing eyes and a smile that spelled doom. Mr. Alex, the new ruler, wielded a magic so vile that it drowned every echo of happiness. The golden sky collapsed into an abyss of endless black. The once-vibrant flowers withered, their colors fading as if mourning a world now lost. Rivers, once pure and glistening, turned into murky graves, concealing horrors in their depths. Fear became the air they breathed. Monstrous creatures prowled the streets, their glowing eyes lurking in the shadows, obeying their tyrant master. Those who resisted vanished, leaving behind nothing but whispers of their fate. Hope¡ªif it still existed¡ªwas a dying ember, suffocating under the weight of despair. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Yet, long before the fall, an ancient prophecy had been etched into history. A prophecy foretelling one from beyond this world, destined to restore the lost light. But prophecies are nothing more than dying whispers on forgotten pages. And in a land abandoned by the light¡­ who still dares to believe in miracles? The World of Flower is no longer a paradise. It is a forsaken realm, where darkness reigns supreme. And this story has only just begun. *** Darkness surrounded him. The cold wind whispered in his ears, carrying a voice from nowhere. "Dave..." The whisper felt so close, yet when he turned, there was nothing but emptiness. Then, from the shadows, a hooded figure emerged. Eyes glowing red, burning like embers in the abyss. "The time is near..." Dave''s heart pounded. He wanted to move, to run, but the ground beneath him held him captive. A crimson key floated in the air, calling to him¡ªawakening something buried deep within. As the wind howled louder and the darkness thickened, Dave realized one thing: Once he steps forward, there will be no turning back. Shadows Beyond The Dream The hurried footsteps and the clinking of a spoon against a plate jolted Dave awake. Morning light seeped through the gaps in the curtains, stabbing at his still-heavy eyelids. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust to reality. "Dave! How many times do I have to tell you¡ªstop sleeping in!" The sharp voice came from the kitchen. Mrs. Ana, his mother, was stuffing a lunchbox into her bag while glancing impatiently at the wall clock. The scent of coffee, now slightly cold, lingered in the air, mixed with the smell of slightly burnt toast. Dave exhaled heavily. "What time is it¡­" he mumbled, his voice hoarse from sleep. "What time?! It''s almost eight, Dave! Do you think life is just about sleeping?" His mother stepped closer, still wearing her slightly wrinkled work uniform from rushing. Her hair was tied back loosely, her face etched with exhaustion. The dark circles under her eyes became more apparent as she gazed at Dave with a look of disappointment. Dave lowered his head, avoiding her eyes. This wasn¡¯t the first time he had heard this lecture. "Getting a job isn¡¯t that easy, Ma," he muttered. "It won¡¯t be easy if you don¡¯t even try! Every day you just sit at home, not even trying to help me?! Your father was a hardworking man¡­ and you¡­" Mrs. Ana stopped mid-sentence, her voice catching. As if there was something she wanted to say but couldn¡¯t. The atmosphere turned cold. Dave lifted his head slightly, but she had already turned away, grabbing her bag and jacket in quick, sharp movements. "I¡¯m leaving," she said flatly before stepping out, closing the door a little harder than necessary. Sunlight streamed through the small window of Dave¡¯s room, illuminating the messy stacks of books and clothes scattered around. The air inside was stale, mixed with the scent of old paper and dust clinging to the rickety wooden shelves in the corner. He remained seated on the edge of his bed, his head lowered, his thoughts a chaotic mess after the argument. His mother¡¯s voice still echoed in his ears¡ªfull of exhaustion and disappointment. "Your father was a hardworking man, and you¡¯re just an unemployed¡ª" She had cut herself off, unable to finish. Dave knew she didn¡¯t mean to hurt him. But those words still felt like a knife plunging into his chest. Taking a deep breath, he tried to shake off the weight in his chest before finally stepping out of his room. Outside, the house felt empty. His mother had already left for work, like she did every morning. A plate of rice and an omelet sat on the small dining table¡ªthe only sign that she still cared, even in the simplest way. Dave didn¡¯t touch it. *** The air outside was fresher than inside his cramped house. This city might have been poor, but at least its streets were still full of life. Old buildings lined both sides of the road, their paint peeling, their walls worn by time, yet they still housed small shops struggling to survive. "Bro...." He turned to see Alex approaching casually. He was slightly chubby, his short hair a mess, but his smile was the same as ever¡ªlike someone who had never known stress. "Day off today?" Dave asked as Alex reached him. Alex nodded. "The shop¡¯s closed. Figured you could use some company." Dave sighed. "I wasn¡¯t planning on going out." "Well, whatever. Let¡¯s go." They walked aimlessly, passing narrow alleys and winding streets they had wandered through since high school. Kids ran along the sidewalks, while exhausted night-shift workers trudged home. This city was full of life, but also full of struggle. Eventually, they stopped at a small roadside eatery. Its roof sagged dangerously, but the place always felt familiar. A middle-aged man sat in the corner, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. A few other customers sat chatting, cigarette smoke hanging thick in the air. They took a seat in the corner, and Alex immediately ordered hot tea. "I don¡¯t get you, Dave," he said, stirring his tea. "Why don¡¯t you try getting a job too?" Dave leaned back in his chair. "You think I haven¡¯t tried? Most jobs in this city are hard labor, Lex. Factory work, shopkeeping, or fixing cars like you. I don¡¯t mind working, but not a job that kills my body before I even figure out my future." Alex chuckled, raising his glass before taking a sip. "Fair enough. I won¡¯t push you. But if you keep waiting, what are you gonna become?" This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Dave fell silent. That question had haunted him too many times, yet the answer always felt just out of reach. "I just¡­ feel like there¡¯s something bigger for me, Bro. But I don¡¯t know what it is." His voice barely rose above the noise of passing cars outside. Alex studied his friend for a moment before patting his shoulder. "Maybe one day, you¡¯ll find out. Until then, at least you¡¯ve got me." Dave gave a small smile. "Yeah, I know." They continued talking about the things that used to matter in high school¡ªthe dreams they never really chased, the girls they had crushes on, and the future that once seemed full of possibilities but now felt smaller every day. As the sky darkened, a strange feeling crept over Dave. A foreign sensation crawled along his spine, like something was watching from the shadows. He turned slightly, glancing at the narrow alley across the street. A dark figure stood there, motionless, blending into the darkness. He blinked, and it was gone. "Dave?" Alex¡¯s voice pulled him back. "Huh?" "You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost." Dave shook his head slowly, trying to dismiss the unease bubbling in his gut. "No¡­ just tired." But deep down, he knew something was watching. *** The night dragged on, thick with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke clinging to the walls. Dave sat near the door, his back resting against the peeling wallpaper, waiting for his mother to return. He knew she would be late¡ªshe was always late. The quiet hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the house, save for the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards as he shifted his weight. A sudden gust of wind rattled the window. Dave frowned. The air felt oddly heavy, like the calm before a storm. He turned his gaze to the door, listening. The streets were quiet, too quiet for this part of town. Then came the sound¡ªsoft, almost imperceptible. A whisper. At first, he thought it was the wind sneaking through the cracks, but as he strained his ears, the voice became clearer. A hushed murmur, distant yet somehow close. It sent a cold shiver down his spine. Dave stood up, his pulse quickening. He turned to the window, half-expecting to see someone standing outside. But the street was empty, bathed in the dim glow of flickering streetlights. Maybe it was just his imagination. With a sigh, he rubbed his temples and turned away¡ªonly to freeze mid-step. The reflection in the window had changed. For a brief moment, he swore he saw something behind him. A shadowy figure, its presence barely distinguishable from the darkness itself. His breath caught in his throat, and when he spun around¡ªnothing. The room was just as it had been before. Silent. Still. A trick of the light, he told himself. Lack of sleep playing tricks on his mind. But deep inside, he knew something wasn¡¯t right. The air carried a weight of something unseen, something waiting. And Dave had the eerie feeling that whatever it was¡ªit had been watching him for a long time. Dave sat on the couch, staring blankly at the flickering television screen. The volume was low, nothing more than a whisper in the dimly lit living room. Outside, the night was quiet, broken only by the occasional barking of stray dogs and the distant hum of passing motorcycles. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Almost midnight. His mother still wasn¡¯t home. Dave had long since grown used to this¡ªwaiting, never knowing what state she¡¯d be in when she finally walked through that door. Would she come home exhausted but sober? Or would she stumble in, reeking of alcohol, slurring words that cut deeper than she realized? A weary sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back, rubbing his temples. He didn¡¯t even know why he still waited up for her. Maybe a small part of him still held on to the hope that just one night, one night, she¡¯d walk through that door with a warm smile instead of hollow eyes. The sound of keys clumsily jangling outside shattered the silence. A moment later, the door creaked open, and there she was¡ªMrs. Ana, swaying slightly as she stepped inside. The sharp scent of alcohol clung to her like a second skin. Her hair was a mess, her blouse was slightly unbuttoned, and her face was flushed with the telltale redness of drunkenness. ¡°You¡¯re still awake¡­¡± Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. Dave held his breath, trying to ignore the sharp stench surrounding her. ¡°I was just waiting for you.¡± She let out a short, hollow laugh. ¡°Waiting for me? What for? I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m always fine¡­¡± she muttered, staggering toward the couch before collapsing onto it with a heavy thud. ¡°You know, Dave¡­ life is hard. I work day and night, breaking my back for us¡­ and you? You just sit here, daydreaming about things that will never happen.¡± Dave clenched his fists, swallowing the words rising in his throat. ¡°I know, Mom¡­¡± ¡°Know?¡± She lifted her head, eyes clouded with something unreadable. ¡°You don¡¯t know anything, Dave. You have no idea what it¡¯s like to lose someone you love¡­ to watch them leave and never come back. You¡¯re too young to understand¡­ too naive.¡± The words hit harder than they should have. Dave swallowed hard, choosing silence over argument. He knew this wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d spoken like this in a drunken haze¡ªand it wouldn¡¯t be the last. Mrs. Ana laughed again, but this time it was bitter, hollow. ¡°Enough¡­ go to bed. I¡¯m tired.¡± Without waiting for a response, she turned over on the couch, shutting her eyes. Her breathing was heavy, uneven¡­ then, slowly, it steadied. Within minutes, she was asleep. Dave exhaled deeply. He stood up, heading toward his room, leaving her to sleep on the couch like she had so many nights before. Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling, his thoughts tangled and restless. It didn¡¯t take long for sleep to find him. But that night, sleep brought no peace. *** In his dream, Dave stood in the middle of a vast field¡ªone he had never seen before. Wild grass swayed gently in the cold night breeze, and above him, the sky stretched endlessly, black and empty, devoid of stars. The air was frigid, cutting through him like shards of ice. A faint rustling echoed in the distance. He turned, searching for the source, but there was nothing. Just endless darkness. Then, a whisper. "Dave..." The voice came from everywhere and nowhere all at once¡ªclose, too close. "Who¡¯s there?" Dave asked, his voice smaller than he had intended. Silence. Heavy and suffocating, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting. Then, from the shadows, a figure emerged. Tall, cloaked in black, its face obscured by darkness. But its eyes¡ªtwo burning embers¡ªpierced through the void. "The time is near..." A chill ran down Dave¡¯s spine. He stepped back instinctively, but the ground beneath him tightened its grip, locking him in place. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice unsteady. The figure said nothing. It simply raised a hand. A dim, crimson light flickered in its palm, swirling and twisting until it took shape¡ªa half-formed key, floating in midair. Dave¡¯s heartbeat thundered in his ears. There was something disturbingly familiar about that key, something that felt... connected to him. Suddenly, the ground trembled. The wind howled, carrying with it a low, guttural roar. The cloaked figure parted its lips as if to speak¡ªbut before a single word could escape, everything vanished. Dave jolted awake, gasping for breath. His room was dark, illuminated only by the faint silver glow of the moon creeping through the window. His hand shot up to his neck. The chain was still there¡ªhis father¡¯s necklace, its metal warm against his skin. His chest heaved, his pulse hammering. He could still feel the weight of the dream pressing down on him, as if some part of him hadn¡¯t fully returned. A dream... or something more? He stared at the ceiling, trying to quiet the storm inside his mind. This wasn¡¯t just a dream. It was a warning. The Living Canvas The morning air was cold and damp. Sunlight hadn¡¯t fully slipped through the worn-out curtains hanging by Dave¡¯s bedroom window. His eyes fluttered open, his breath still heavy, like someone who¡¯d just run a long way through a dream. He sat up slowly, scanning the room that hadn''t changed in years¡ªcracked walls, a worn-out study desk, and a bookshelf with half its contents gathering dust. Almost instinctively, his fingers reached for the necklace resting against his chest¡ªthe one he¡¯d worn since he was a child. It felt warm, as if it still held traces of the dream he had. Dave drew in a deep breath. Flashes of a cloaked figure, strange whispers, and a red light forming a key¡­ they were all still vivid. It didn¡¯t feel like just another weird dream¡ªit was something deeper, more real. His stomach let out a quiet growl. He got out of bed and opened his bedroom door, which led straight into the main room. Their house was small. There were no fancy hallways or private corners. Just one open space that served as a kitchen, dining area, and where his mother often slept on the couch. The dining table held nothing but an empty coffee cup and a plate of untouched, dried-out toast. She had already left for work, as usual. No note, no ¡°good morning.¡± Dave sat on the creaky wooden chair. His fingers curled around the cup, though it held nothing. His gaze drifted out the window, watching the narrow street outside as it came to life¡ªfactory workers in uniform, sanitation crews, and schoolchildren walking in groups. The world moved on, business as usual. But something inside him had shifted since last night. The necklace still pulsed faintly with warmth, as if it was whispering to him¡ªcalling. And somehow, the morning felt quieter than it used to. Dave remained in the chair, his fingertips now tracing the edge of the empty cup, as if searching for an answer in the silence. His eyes stared blankly out the window. Something had settled inside him since the dream¡ªsomething weightless yet heavy, invisible yet pressing. Slowly, he stood up. He reached for the necklace and studied it closely. It was simple¡ªa half-circle with a blossom symbol etched in the center, adorned with a small red stone that glowed faintly when touched by light. The necklace was the only thing his father had left behind before vanishing, back when Dave was just two years old. For most of his life, he had thought of it simply as a keepsake. But ever since the dream¡ªever since that figure in a dark cloak and the red light that formed a key, something had shifted in the way he saw it. His hand clenched slowly. He walked back into his room, grabbed his worn-out jacket, and tucked the necklace beneath his shirt. He didn¡¯t know where he was going. But his body moved on its own, led by a quiet urgency that pulsed from somewhere deep inside. The cold morning air hit his skin as soon as he stepped outside. The streets were dusty, filled with the clatter of aging vehicles and the sharp voices of vendors setting up their stalls. In a city like this, dreams and reality rarely walked side by side. But today, Dave felt¡ªfor the first time¡ªthat maybe, somehow, the two were beginning to collide. *** Dave walked along the cracked sidewalk, past rows of old shops still sealed behind their metal shutters. The chill in the air hadn¡¯t yet managed to drown out the mingled scent of exhaust fumes and fresh bread from roadside stalls. He moved through streets he''d known his entire life, yet everything felt strangely unfamiliar this morning. A middle-aged man in a patched-up jacket sat in front of a rusted hardware store, lighting a cigarette with trembling hands. Across from him, a child cried after being refused a toy hanging behind a cloudy plastic window. The world went on. Loud. Indifferent. Dave slipped his hand into his pocket, clutching something invisible¡ªa loneliness that had quietly grown into an unspoken weight. He kept walking, passing the narrow alley where he used to play hide and seek with kids who were now long gone. Then he stopped in front of an old repair shop. The air was filled with the sound of metal being hammered, engines groaning, and a loud laugh that felt too familiar. "Yo! Why are you zoning out like some lost soul?" A stocky figure with grease-stained hands popped out from behind the hood of a car. His messy hair, round face, and easy grin were like the first sunshine after a long winter. Dave chuckled softly. "Just walking around." "Walking around looking for a cheap lunch, more like." Alex smirked, wiping sweat from his brow. "I don¡¯t have much to do right now. Got an intern to cover for me. So¡­ where we headed?" Dave hesitated. Truthfully, he didn¡¯t know. But somehow, seeing Alex that morning felt like the first sign the universe was throwing his way. "Let¡¯s just get out for a bit," Dave finally said. "I need some air." Alex nodded. "We¡¯ll take my bike. You¡¯re paying for lunch." "I¡¯m broke." "Then pay me with a story. Feels like you¡¯ve got a lot to tell today." Dave gave a small smile. Maybe he was right¡ªthis wasn¡¯t going to be just another story. *** Alex¡¯s beat-up motorbike rolled to a stop near a small park on the edge of town¡ªa quiet place rarely visited, except by old couples or teenagers looking for a bit of peace. The midday air was damp, and the sky hung heavy and gray, like it was holding back rain it didn¡¯t want to let fall. Dave sat on a weathered wooden bench while Alex went to grab two instant noodle cups from a small stall near the park gate. He returned minutes later, carrying a white plastic bag and two bottles of water. "Why this quiet spot?" Alex asked as he took a seat next to Dave. "Usually you''re hunting for a place with outlets and free Wi-Fi." Dave shrugged. "I just wanted some silence." Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Alex didn¡¯t answer right away. He opened his noodles, blew on the rising steam, and said quietly, "You seem different today, man." Dave stayed silent. His gaze drifted across the damp grass in front of them. "You ever feel like¡­ your dream was more real than your life?" Alex chuckled. "Dreamt about a girl?" Dave shook his head. "No. It was weird. I saw this cloaked figure, red light, strange voices and they all pointed to this." He pulled the necklace from beneath his shirt, revealing a half-circle pendant with a blossom symbol and a small red stone that glowed faintly in the light. Alex squinted. "That¡¯s the necklace you¡¯ve always worn, right?" "Yeah," Dave said quietly. "But last night, in the dream¡­ it lit up. And something inside me said it wasn¡¯t just a dream." Alex chewed slowly, eyes still on the necklace. "Maybe you¡¯re just exhausted. Too much on your mind. How¡¯s your mom?" Dave let out a deep breath. "Same as always. Comes home drunk, talks to herself, crashes on the couch¡­ Sometimes I wonder if I¡¯m just gonna be stuck in this forever." Alex put down his noodles. "Our lives are a mess, bro. But¡­ you¡¯ve got something I don¡¯t." Dave looked over. "What?" "The guts to ask questions," Alex said. "To see that something¡¯s not right. Me? I just change oil all day." Silence settled between them. Only the sound of wind in the trees and distant laughter of kids filled the air. Then Dave spoke, barely above a whisper. "I want to go to my grandma¡¯s place." Alex glanced at him. "The one in the countryside?" Dave nodded. "I need to ask her about this necklace. Maybe she knows something." He paused, then added, "And I just want to get away for a bit. Take a break¡­ I¡¯m tired of fighting with my mom every day." Alex snorted, but not unkindly. "Want me to come with you?" Dave looked at his friend and for the first time that morning, he smiled faintly. "What about your job?" Alex smiled back. "I¡¯ll handle it. I can take time off." He laughed softly. "Besides, sometimes I wanna disappear for a while too. My boss nags like it¡¯s a full-time hobby." Dave nodded, and without needing more words, the plan was set. *** The morning sky was a pale gray, like an old sheet of paper no one had written on yet. Dave and Alex stood in front of a small, quiet terminal. The air smelled of diesel and old exhaust pipes. A faded light blue bus, its paint peeling off, was ready to leave¡ªjust waiting on the last few passengers. Dave wore a worn-out jacket and carried a small backpack. The pendant around his neck was hidden beneath his shirt, but he could still feel its warmth since last night. It felt different now¡ªstronger. Like a tiny heart, beating outside his chest. ¡°You sure this is the right route?¡± Alex asked, stuffing snacks into his bag. ¡°Yeah,¡± Dave replied shortly. ¡°I double-checked last night.¡± They boarded the bus and chose seats by the window. The trip to Dave¡¯s grandmother¡¯s house would take over two hours, through rice fields, quiet villages, and patches of forest. Alex settled in, pulling out his headphones. ¡°You think your grandma still remembers the necklace?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Dave muttered, eyes on the window. ¡°But I¡¯m sure... she¡¯s keeping something she¡¯s never told anyone.¡± The bus began to move. The ride was bumpy, but Dave remained silent. Faces of other passengers blurred in the reflection on the glass¡ªan old couple, a mother with a child, and a man who¡¯d been asleep since the start. Somewhere along the way, Dave dozed off. In his dream, he saw the hooded figure again. But this time... it was closer. And the voice was clearer: ¡°You carry the key. But it¡¯s not time to open the door.¡± Dave jolted awake, breath heavy. His hand instinctively reached for the pendant pulsing warmly beneath his shirt. Alex glanced at him. ¡°Another dream?¡± Dave gave a small nod. The trip felt longer than usual. *** By the time the bus stopped on a dusty, empty road, the sky had turned amber. There was no station, no sign. Just a narrow path flanked by old trees, as if welcoming two young wanderers carrying too many questions. Dave and Alex stepped off the bus. Dust rose briefly, then settled on the dry ground. ¡°This the place?¡± Alex asked, scanning their surroundings. Dave nodded. ¡°We have to walk about fifteen minutes from here.¡± They followed the narrow trail through thick trees. The evening air was damp, the earth smelled of wet leaves. Not many sounds just the occasional birdcall and the crunch of twigs under their feet. At the end of the path stood Dave¡¯s grandmother¡¯s house¡ªquiet, almost like it had been plucked from an old fairy tale. The roof was low, the wooden walls aged, and the small windows were left open. Wildflowers grew in the yard, unruly but oddly comforting. Dave knocked gently. Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing an elderly woman with neatly tied white hair. Her gaze was sharp, but warm. The moment she saw Dave, she said nothing¡ªjust pulled him into a tight embrace. ¡°Grandma¡­¡± Dave whispered. Alex stood awkwardly behind, unsure whether to step forward or give them space. After a few seconds, the woman spoke. ¡°Come in. It¡¯s been a long time since you last visited.¡± Dave and Alex exchanged a quick glance before following her inside. Mrs. Bianca¡ªDave¡¯s grandmother¡ªhad lived alone since her husband passed away a few years back. Inside, the scent of old wood and jasmine tea greeted them. The house was simple: two bedrooms and a small attic space used as storage. Dusty bookshelves, old paintings, and faded family photographs filled the walls. Dave sat on a rattan chair while his grandmother poured him a cup of hot tea. ¡°How¡¯s your mother?¡± she asked, handing over the cup. ¡°Still the same,¡± Dave replied. ¡°Still angry all the time¡­ and coming home drunk from work.¡± His grandmother only nodded softly. ¡°Have you two eaten?¡± she asked again. Dave and Alex shook their heads in sync. ¡°Then eat first,¡± Mrs. Bianca said as she stood and started walking toward her room. But before disappearing completely, she paused in the hallway and glanced back. ¡°If there¡¯s something you want to ask¡­ ask me later. Eat now, rest first.¡± Dave and Alex exchanged a quiet glance. *** That night, her house felt still¡ªas if it had stopped breathing. A single lamp lit the living room in a soft yellow glow, wrapping everything in a warm hush. On a small table, the jasmine tea kettle released a gentle steam, its scent barely there but calming. The tick of the wall clock echoed faintly across the room. Dave sat on an old couch, its cushions sunken with age. Alex was beside him, idly poking a piece of cake he hadn¡¯t touched. In the corner, their grandmother sat in her rocking chair, her knitting needles moving slowly between wrinkled fingers. No one spoke for a while. But the silence didn¡¯t feel awkward. It felt natural¡ªlike part of the house, a quiet ritual in a place filled with untold stories. Dave glanced down at the necklace around his neck. It felt cold to the touch, as if it held something that hadn¡¯t quite woken up. That night, for some reason, he couldn¡¯t hold back his curiosity any longer. ¡°Grandma¡­ this necklace¡ªdid Dad give it to me?¡± Her knitting stopped. But she didn¡¯t answer right away. Her eyes stayed fixed on the yarn, as if the words needed time to form. ¡°Yes,¡± she said at last. ¡°When you were just a baby.¡± Dave waited. But she didn¡¯t say more. ¡°He¡­ where is he now? I mean¡ªDad,¡± he asked quietly. His grandmother finally looked at him¡ªfor the first time that night. Her gaze was deep, like it carried something she couldn¡¯t bring herself to say aloud. ¡°He went somewhere far,¡± she answered. ¡°Not somewhere we can reach. But someday, you¡¯ll understand.¡± For a moment, only the sound of the rocking chair creaking filled the room. Dave didn¡¯t ask again. He knew, for tonight, that was as far as he could go. *** Morning crept in slowly. Sunlight slipped through thin curtains, dancing over the dining table already set and waiting. Toast, strawberry jam, two cups of warm tea. The scent of cinnamon drifted through the fresh morning air. Grandma sat down first. She waited in silence, eyes fixed on the window like she was counting the passing seconds. As they started eating, the phone rang¡ªits classic tone echoing from a device nearly extinct. She rose, her steps steady but slow. Lifting the receiver, a short pause hung in the air¡ªtense, though no one meant it to be. ¡°Yes, he¡¯s here,¡± she said flatly. Dave looked down, pretending to focus on spreading the jam. He knew exactly who was on the other end. ¡°No, he hasn¡¯t said anything. But he¡¯s fine. Let him rest here for a while.¡± Her voice remained calm, but her fingers gripped the receiver just a little tighter before placing it back down. ¡°Your mother¡¯s just worried about you,¡± she said as she returned to the table. Dave didn¡¯t reply. There was something strange about being someone¡¯s burden¡ªespecially to a woman already worn out by a lifetime of struggle. *** After breakfast, Dave and Alex offered to help tidy up the house. Grandma nodded, then told them to head up to the storage room in the attic. The old wooden stairs creaked under their feet. The smell of aged timber and dust greeted them as the narrow door at the end of the hallway creaked open. The attic felt more like a time capsule¡ªfull of dusty boxes, old suitcases, and objects the world seemed to have forgotten. In the corner, a large painting stood propped against the wall, covered in a white sheet. ¡°Hey, you see that?¡± Alex muttered, curiosity piqued. Dave stepped closer and carefully pulled the cloth away. They fell silent. Behind it stretched a landscape that felt too real¡ªa vast kingdom bursting with colorful flower fields, a towering castle nestled in a valley, and winding cobblestone roads leading into faraway mountains. But what made the painting strange wasn¡¯t just the detail. The sky above that land was churning black, like charcoal clouds frozen in an eternal storm. Flashes of distant lightning glimmered behind them¡ªlike something was sleeping... and dreaming. The flowers in the garden seemed to sway in a wind that wasn¡¯t there. A faint mist hovered over the ground, and in the quiet, Dave felt... something staring back at him from within the canvas. ¡°This...,¡± Dave whispered. ¡°It feels alive.¡± Alex nodded slowly, eyes locked on a flicker of light behind the clouds. ¡°Man... this is too real. Beautiful, but creepy.¡± The sheet they had pulled off shifted slightly, moving on its own. A soft draft swept in from a crack in the roof, and for a moment, Dave felt like the painting... breathed. They stood frozen, unable to explain what they were seeing or what they were feeling. But one thing was certain: from that moment on, Grandma¡¯s house held far more questions than answers.